


Props

by inkiestdawn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Humour, Oral Sex, Props, Smut, doilies, leading up to a threesom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 20:29:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4363118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkiestdawn/pseuds/inkiestdawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 1<br/>The only lodgings you and the Winchesters can find is a single room at a bed and breakfast that apparently has a doily fetish. Cas takes a liking to it with his mind on the possibilities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Props

The thought of another night sleeping curled up in the driver’s seat of the Impala, Dean snoring beside you, Sam stretched out in the back, is enough to make you scream. It’s not the company but the stiffness in your back and neck, the aches in your legs, and the fact that you’re tired that make you want to throw at least a mini tantrum. Just a little swearing, some air swings, a jump or two.

This town was the only stop on the way home and after very little resistance from anyone, you all decided to stop for the night. Right now a soft bed, hard bed, fuck, even a couch would do.

“Right, thanks,” Sam says into his cell, a hard edge to his mouth telling you all you need to know; no vacancy. Shit.

The three of you are standing outside of a bar. You’re leaning wearily against the door of a phone booth. Yes, a phone booth. It’s telling when the town you’re in actually has one. It’s the type of town that only has one run down motel. The lack of vacancy is not surprising considering that it’s the “60th Annual Fall Harvest Festival”. Seriously, who would want to miss this shit? Truck pulls, baked goods, chicken beauty pageants, whatever the fuck else they do at fall harvest festivals. You rip a poster off the wall before Dean can see ‘Pie Eating Contest’. You want out of here as soon as possible but, preferably, after a good night’s sleep.

“Anything else?” Sam asks, looking down at the screen of his cell, one hand pushing back his hair.

“What about a bed & breakfast,” Dean suggests, he stops flipping through the pages of a phone book, pointing at a listing with his index finger, “This looks alright,” he turns to you, “at least there should be a clean bathroom.” He wriggles his eyebrows.

You let out a sigh and nod, “Yes please, anything with a shower and a bed.”

***

“Well,” Dean says with a slow smirk, “fuck me sideways and call me Ethel.”

He pats the fluffy duvet before turning and dropping down onto the bed. He bounces, flounders a moment when the mattress gives more than he had anticipated, but quickly regains his composure and grins. The duvet cover, like just about everything else in the room, is covered in a flower print. Large, pink flowers.

The ‘English Rose’ bed and breakfast had only one room available.

“We’re very busy this time of year,” a matronly woman chirped when they inquired about vacancy, “you’re lucky one of our guests had to cancel at the last minute”.

Yes, lucky.

Right now though, you can forgive the décor. The bed looks incredibly enticing and the bathroom at the end of the hall, though shared, is clean.

The room is all flower prints, lace, doilies, ruffles, and dusty rose. Flower print wallpaper, dusty rose carpet, a white lace canopy around the queen sized bed, and doilies. Lots of ‘em. On top of the dresser, bed side tables, even the small, black television tucked in the corner is adorned with a single doily.

“Now this is the place to bring a date,” Dean beams, bouncing on the bed. It squeaks in protest. He’s clearly running on adrenaline and looking for a nightcap.

“Pft. The last time this bed was involved in any reproducing was when the flowers up and multiplied. No chance of any fucking happening in here,” you mutter, “I can’t imagine anyone being able to get it up while surrounded by this much…” you gesture to the room, “pink.”

Dean chuckles, “Darlin’, I can get it up anytime.”

“Get what up?” Castiel asks, his gravelly voice coming from behind you, unexpected, and making you jump.

“Jesus pickle fuck Cas, could you not do that?” you press a hand to your chest as though the gesture can slow your racing heart.

Dean laughs. He rocks back, using the momentum to push himself forward and up off of the soft bed. He crosses the room, thumps Cas on the shoulder, and asks, “Join us for a beer, buddy?”

Castiel doesn’t respond. You turn to look at the angel. His lips are pressed into a thin line, gaze fixed on something behind you.

Dean grins playfully, “You into settes Cas? Have a furniture kink?” He bobs his head, mouth open in a silent, puppet like laugh, proud of himself for the lame zinger. His smile falters when Castiel doesn’t respond.

“Cas?”

“Uh,” the angel snaps to, blinking rapidly, wetting his lips with his tongue nervously, “I believe that’s a fainting couch, Dean.”

Dean frowns, “Yeah alright,” he looks over his shoulder at the item in question. “Well, I could use a beer, we’ll figure out sleeping arrangements later? That, uh, fainting couch looks just about your size, Y/N”, he quips.

“Absolutely, that’ll free up the bed for you and moose to snuggle up tight and keep each other warm,” you tease, winking at the hunter.

Dean scowls, “You can snuggle with…you can keep warm,” he searches the room for inspiration, muttering, “doilies, so many doilies.”

Castiel stands rigidly at the end of the bed, his back to you.

“Cas? Buddy?” Dean barks.

Castiel jerks, turning stiffly.

“Yes?” he says, his eyes unfocused. He looks around the room, gaze never quite focusing or settling.

“You coming?” Dean cocks his head towards the door. He shifts from foot to foot restlessly, still buzzing with the rush of a successful hunt.

“In a moment,” Cas says, fingers trailing over the velvety, pink fabric of the couch.

The corners of Dean’s mouth turn down, lines forming between his eyes, expression somewhere between mirth and confusion. After a beat, he shrugs and turns for the door, “I’ll give you and the uh…inanimate object some privacy.” He opens the door. Over his shoulder, he asks, “You coming Y/N?”

“Right behind you,” you say, giving him a reassuring wave when he glances back, “I’m just gonna freshen up.”

Something on the dresser by the door stops him. Dean picks up a flyer, eyes widening with excitement.

“DID YOU SEE THIS?” he practically squeals, “Harvest festival,” he reads out loud, “A pie eating contest?” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks the time, “Gotta hurry,” Dean mutters, “I’ll call Sam and let him know to meet me there.” Eyes bright with excitement and smiling wide, Dean rushes out, slamming the door behind him.

You stand still for a moment, aware of the quiet, the stillness of the room now that Dean has gone. The hair on the back of your neck prickles and your heart beat picks up. You feel rather than hear Castiel approach. He stops inches from you, his breath in your hair, the warmth of his body making the muscles in your legs tremble.

On your last hunt, alone with Cas, he made some promises. Promises that made your head spin and your skin tingle.

Behind you now, his right hand brushes over yours, he presses his chest into your back. You feel his lips on your neck and moan, eyes closing in bliss. Head falling back to rest against his, you lean into Castiel, rolling your hips back as his left hand slides over your abdomen and under your shirt. He runs his tongue along the back of your ear, his breath hot on your skin.

You turn to face him, a shudder running through you when you see his eyes; dark, heavy lidded, filled with desire. His nostrils flare as he breathes out heavily, pressing his lips together. You raise your left arm, running your hand around his neck, up into his hair. Looking up, lips parted, you lean forward until your mouth is barely brushing his, breath mingling together.

Castiel presses his lips to yours, the kiss slow, gentle. His body shifts as he shrugs out of his trench coat and jacket. He loosens his tie before grabbing your hips and pushing you back onto the bed, never breaking the kiss.

With one knee, he eases your thighs apart and settles himself on top of you, left hand sliding up under your shirt to cup your breast through the soft fabric of your bra. Your nipple hardens under the attention and Castiel pinches it lightly, moaning deep in his throat.

You bring your knees up, pressing them to his hips, grinding yourself up against him. His erection strains against the front of his pants. You tug at the buttons of his shirt, opening them clumsily, Castiel’s tongue and lips and hands making it hard to focus on undressing him.

“Jesus Cas,” you hiss when he rubs his erection against you, the hardness of him, the pressure hitting you just right.

His shirt hanging open, a testament to a task complete, you touch his chest, his abdomen, hands running up and around his back to pull him to you. You whimper softly when he pulls away, lips tingling and cheeks burning from the stubble on his cheeks. Castiel settles back on his heels, looking down at you, eyes glazed over with lust.

His gaze flicks over to the small couch at the end of the bed. You frown.

“What is it with you and that particular piece of furniture?” you ask as you pop the button on his pants and reach inside. Cas hisses, he tilts his head back and closes his eyes when your fingers find him and wrap tightly around his hard cock. You hum a soft, happy sound at his reaction, spreading your knees out wider at the rush of heat and wetness to your groin. You stroke him, grip tight.

Cas grabs your knees, pressing your legs together against his thighs and rocking his hips into your strokes. His eyes open suddenly and he looks down at you, mouth open in surprise. You’re about to ask what’s wrong when you hear a throat clearing and Dean say, “No fucking in this room, hunh Y/N? Too much pink, is it?”

“Shit,” you hiss, eyes on Castiel, your face burning in shock and embarrassment.

Cas ducks his head, eyes on his cock, still gripped tight in your hand. With a strange look on his face, his eyes meet yours briefly before he turns to look at Dean over his shoulder, “You just going to stand there and watch or,” he turns back to look at you, tilting his head to the side before saying, “join in?”

It wasn’t even a fully formed thought; just the briefest, quickest image of being naked with Dean and Cas but the angel had picked up on it. You blush even more now, breath shallow. You hear the door swing shut and you swear you can almost hear your heart beating in the silence that follows.

Then, footsteps.

You look up at Cas and swallow hard. He raises an eyebrow and shrugs, lips quirking into a grin.

Your head spins as Cas pulls gently away. You release him, propping yourself up onto your elbows, chest heaving as your lungs and heart try to keep up with the rush of adrenaline. Cas shifts so that you can see Dean standing just a few feet away, his eyes on Castiel’s face. He’s holding his duffle bag in one hand, the other fisted at his side. He stands rigidly, uncertainty putting him on edge. When he sees you watching him, he pulls at his bottom lip with his teeth.

“Do you two, have you…” the muscles in his jaw clench and flex. He shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“No,” you say softly, “not yet, we haven’t…”

Cas pushes his cock back into his pants but doesn’t fasten the button. He steps back off the bed. A look passes between them and Dean relaxes, dropping his bag on the floor. The expression on his face changes so suddenly that you can’t help but wonder if he and Cas have done this before. You think about asking but the thought of having both of them fills your mind, flooding your body with endorphins and pheromones and all the good stuff.

When Dean looks at you this time, the confidence is back. He narrows his gaze, “Alright.”

He licks his lips, “I wouldn’t mind a shower first. You think all three of us will fit in there?”

The laugh that should have flowed, all tinkling and sparkly and lovely, out of you comes out as a snort of surprise. You clamp a hand over your mouth, trying to hold back a nervous giggle. Bad idea. You choke and sputter before erupting in to a full on fit of the gigs.

You catch the look that passes between them this time and stop short, sputtering.

“Uh, seriously?”

“Why not? Everyone should be out at the festival,” Dean says, “why else would they be staying here?”

“The furniture is of good quality,” Cas starts to say but stops when Dean raises an eyebrow at him.

With a deep breath and some steely fortitude, you sit up.

“Alright,” the word doesn’t come out as strong and clear as you would have hoped but A for effort and all that, “do we just troop in there all together…”

“You’ve never done this before,” Dean says, the sudden awareness registering as surprise on his face, “Ohhhh.”

Cas grins.

“Oh, and you have?” you direct the angel with a glare.

Castiel’s gaze flicks to Dean and back. You stifle a gasp, biting down on your lower lip. There’s no question that you want both of them. Steadily, you stand, willing your legs not to betray the nervousness that you feel. Cas moves close, bending down to kiss your jaw and nuzzle your neck.

“Are you sure?” he whispers, his hand on your hip, steadying you.

You nod and hook a finger in one of the belt loops on his pants, turning your head when he kisses the corner of your mouth. His lips meet yours, urgent and hungry. You gasp and grab his hips, pulling him toward you, pressing yourself against him. Cas slides his hands down to cup your ass, his erection hard against your stomach.

The angel pulls away just enough to pepper your jaw and cheek with soft kisses, he stops to whisper, “Go shower, I’ll wait here.” He pulls away, casting a meaningful glance toward Dean. You swallow hard and press your forehead to his collarbone, nodding.

Cas steps back, turning to sit on the edge of the bed. You look at Dean, forcing yourself to hold his gaze, and take a step forward.

Dean hums, “Looks like it’s you and me baby.” He takes your hand, leading you out of the room.

***

This really wasn’t what you had in mind but your body isn’t complaining. You move down the hall, pulled along by Dean. The bathroom is big and you realize, with a sigh of relief, unoccupied. You were admiring the large, claw foot tub not half an hour ago but now, it looks small. Much too small for two people.

Dean lets go of your hand and closes the door. He walks over, cups your chin, and tilts your head up.

“If you’re not alright with this…” he looks into your eyes, his expression serious.

“I want this,” you breathe, “I do.”

The smile on Dean’s face, in his eyes, is quick and edged with desire. He kisses your lips, still holding your chin. You reach up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, stretching up on your tip toes. Dean releases your chin, his tongue pressing gently at your lips, and wraps his arms around you. He lifts you the extra few inches. You feel his smile and pull away, searching his face.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he admits.

“Me too,” you say breathlessly. He settles you back down, shrugging out of his over shirt. He pulls the hem of his t-shirt up over his head and at the sight of his abdomen, his chest and bare shoulders, the weight of what you’re about to do settles deep and low in your abdomen, blossoming with heat and desire and excitement.

You reach down to pull your own shirt off but Dean stops you.

“Let me,” he says, voice deep and low.

You swallow hard and nod, watching as he runs his long fingers between the top of your pants and your stomach. You lift your arms up for him. Dean pulls your shirt up over your head, smiling and leaning in for a quick kiss as he lets the shirt drop to the floor. He takes your face in his hands, his palms large and dry and warm, and kisses you again, deeper this time. He breathes in, pushing his pelvis forward. You grab his hips and run your hands up his back, pressing hard into his flesh. Dean moans and buries one hand in your hair, the other trailing down to cup your breast.

You bring your hands down, raking your fingertips gently across his ribs and down low to unbutton his pants. You pull his zipper down and tug his pants and underwear low on his hips.

“Should we, uh,” Dean murmurs against your lips, “shower?”

Smiling against his moving lips, you nod and pull away to tug Dean’s pants down. Eyes on the floor, you decide to kneel, tilting your head back slowly to look up at him. You reach back to quickly unclasp your bra, letting it slide off and onto the floor before sliding your hands up his legs. Dean gasps and groans low. His cock is hard between his legs, heavy and thick. Sucking softly on your lower lip, you grip the base of his cock and tilt it down to your mouth.

Dean hisses, balling his fists at his sides and letting his head fall back. You take the head of his cock, soft and slick, in your mouth, working your tongue over and around while sucking gently. Stroking the base, you slide him in further, working your tongue under him. You breathe in the musky, salty scent of him and suck, bobbing your head, keeping the movement sensuously slow.

The hunter swears and pushes his hips forward, reaching to hold the back of your head. His fingers tangle in your hair and he gasps hoarsely when you cup his balls, massaging them.

Pulling away, you run your tongue firmly from the base of his cock to the tip. In one quick movement, Dean reaches down to lift you to your feet. His kisses you roughly, tugging at the button of your jeans and yanking them down along with your panties. He drops to his knees, tugging at the pants to get you to step out of them. He pushes your jeans out of the way and runs his hands along your thighs, kneading the tight muscles of your hamstrings and reaching up to pull your forward. You stumble a little, giggling, trying step on the heels of your socks to get them off.

You gasp when Dean buries his chin between your legs, flicking his tongue out between your folds to lick at your clit. He closes his mouth over you, sucking roughly at that most tender spot, making you almost double over. You grab his shoulders for support. Dean holds you firmly in place with his left hand pulling your ass forward, trailing the fingers of his right hand up your inner thigh, sucking and licking your clit. Your skin tingles under his touch and you arch up and back when he spreads your labia and licks at your entrance. He slides a finger inside of you.

“So wet,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your pussy, “fuck.”

He gets up and, for a moment, just stands there,close to you. The heat rising from him, the scent of him, the height of the hunter, the width of his shoulders, fills your head until it’s swimming with the need to touch. You press your thighs together, aware of the slickness.

“Shower,” he says hoarsely.

“Right,” you breathe, smiling.

You turn and pull the curtain closed, leaning in to play with the taps. Dean sidles up close, pressing his erection against your ass, his hand running down your back.

Fingers under the running water to gauge the temperature, you clear your throat and ask, “What happened to the pie?”

“What?” he murmurs, distracted. He grabs his cock and strokes it, his eyes on your ass.

Feeling cheeky, you turn, sitting down on the edge of the tub.

“The pie eating contest,” you say. Dean trails a finger over the mounds of your breasts, lips parted softly.

“Contest?”

Smiling, you reach back to turn the shower on. You lift one leg slowly over the edge of the tub to step in, giving him a quick glimpse before getting into the bath. The water is warm, the pressure perfect. Dean joins you, pulling you to him. He leans down for a kiss, sliding his hands down to your ass, his hard cock pressed against your stomach. You think of how he’ll feel inside of you, thick and hard, and moan at the image it evokes.

Thoughts clearly going in the same direction, Dean says, “I left the condoms in the room,” he pushes his hips forward, rutting against you and sliding a hand between your legs.

“Let’s make this quick then.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, his mouth twisting into a scowl, “That doesn’t sound like much fun.”

He pulls back, grabs his cock, and tilts it down, sliding it between your legs. Because of his height, his cock pushes up against your clit. Dean pulls back with a groan, hands on your ass to pull your forward as he pushes in again. The head of his cock slides past your entrance, the base rubbing against your clit. You bury your head against his shoulder, peppering his slick skin with little kisses under the spray.

At a sudden knock on the door, you go still. Dean takes in a sharp breath, muttering a curse.

“Hello,” the owner of the B&B sings out, “I’m sorry to be a bother but we have another guest waiting to use the facilities.”

“Shit,” you hiss, calling out, “okay, just a minute.”

“Oh, I thought I saw a young man go in there. Alright dear, be sure to be quick.”

Dean snorts, looking down a little forlornly at his cock pressed between your legs, “We need to continue this adventure another time.”

You smile up at him, “Absolutely. Rain check?”


End file.
